


it rained and rained and felt so, so familiar as the sky poured onto your face

by craftingdead



Series: charlie will make cd a common tag if it kills them [3]
Category: The Crafting Dead
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 12:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craftingdead/pseuds/craftingdead
Summary: I was there when the rain tapped her way down your faceYou were a miracle, I was just holding your space(Big Black Car - Gregory Alan Isakov)





	it rained and rained and felt so, so familiar as the sky poured onto your face

It was pouring outside.

Rain pressed Sky’s hair against his face, smoothing down his tumbling curls and bringing an uncomfortable heaviness to the top of his head. His hair reached down his back, showcasing its obvious length, to anyone who’s ever met him and anyone who might see him now; Sky did have a lot of hair, after all. Enough to be able to pull it back into a ponytail.

Barney liked to play with it, flicking it back and forth and pulling on it whenever Sky was being annoying or bitchy enough. Sky pretended to hate it but his laughter always proved him wrong.

Always.

The rhythmic pressure on his shoulders, his hair, his back, did not only smooth down Sky’s hair, not as untameable as his siblings’ had been, though still being annoying as hell whenever he had wanted to brush it, but also filled him with a sense of nostalgic melancholy. It hurt him.

Not the rain, no—the rain was soft, though heavy as it might be; comforting. It wasn’t the icy spikes that a lot of people expect and avoid. Hell, he even liked it.

It reminded him of Barney.

The way it poured onto his back, the way the wind whistled in the hair, _fuck_ , even the occasional flashes of thunder he’d been hearing for the past hour or so (had it really been a full hour? He couldn’t believe it) reminded him of his lost friend.

The friend he buried.

The friend he killed.

Another flash of thunder rocked the sky, and Sky tilted his head up to meet it. Water was dripping down the side of his nose, pouring down his face, covering his entire body; plastering his clothes onto his frame. The boom of thunder rang in his ears as the rain surrounded him, drowning him in it. Covering up the tears streaming down his face, washing away his grievances and sadness.

Becoming one with him.

Sky wasn’t one for rain, thunder, the dark clouds that came before, despite what his name means (he had gotten  _a lot_ of jokes about that, trust me). He had never liked getting wet, or how cold the rain was, or how heavy his clothes got in it, or the way the sky darkened with the clouds that expel it, blotting out the sun.

But now, he wasn’t cold. Dressed in only a t-shirt and pajama pants, Sky wasn’t cold. The absence of the sun didn’t even bother him. It was night, and he didn’t think the sun was supposed to be out at night.

“Sky?” Speaking of the sun...

He turned around. Standing behind him was Nick, the faithful leader of the small group Barney had found and brought Sky too, unknowingly bringing him back to his heart; he had never been the one to remember names. The piercing sadness choked him, as he watched his younger brother (HE WAS HIS FUCKING BROTHER WHY COULDN’T NICK REMEMBER?) shiver in only a tank top and shorts. Arms crossed over his chest, compared to Sky’s, which were hanging limply at his side, and pressed down onto his chest in dysphoric discomfort. “What are you doing?”

Sky could ask him the same thing. But at the same time, couldn’t bring himself to: he already knew the answer, and he knew it well.

Nick had always loved the rain.

Sky always found it ironic that someone who burned so bright, one who could outshine the sun, who reveled in light and warm colors could love the rain oh so much. Could find so much comfort, so much  _happiness_ in a storm.

He would watch from the window with Shelby, scowling as his brother would laugh and dance, splashing himself and everything around him. Shelby would laugh, and after a while, Sky would too—he’d never been the type to keep an actual grudge on any of his siblings, especially not one this petty. He would laugh, make fun of Nick with his sister, and eventually go outside and drag Nick back inside. He would pout, but Sky knew it was necessary; Nick got colds so easily. Another ironic tidbit, with his love of all things warm and bright.

That thought flicked in his mind as Nick looked at him questioningly, a heavy silence balancing between the two.

Sky couldn’t answer his question. He couldn’t answer why the sun would be out in a storm, why a fire could flicker through the pouring rain, and he couldn’t answer why he was out here. Why? To find any scraps of his lost friend? To drown in his sorrows? To seek friendship in the storm, as his brother had done? Sky didn’t know.

He lowered his face.

The small gesture, the quietness filling the air, the rain on his clothes, they all answered for him.

Nick was quiet, then he said, “I miss him too.”

 _Oh, I know, Nick._ Sky could have laughed. He knew, he fucking knew that Nick missed Barney. He knew how everyone missed Barney, even Jin, who had barely known him, who had only heard things about _their Barney_ from stories and only ever saw him when it was his corpse rushing towards the group, groaning Sky’s name as he advanced with a strange hunger glistening in his eyes. They all missed him. But Nick was missing something.

Nick was missing the chats he’d watch Sky have with Barney, laughing long into the night, seeing him wave off the Cielo-Lynx kids as they sailed back to Seaport, missing the way Sky would laugh as he weaved tales about the bullshit he and Barney would always pull on the mainland. He was missing so much.

And Sky didn’t know how to help get them, the memories, back. He didn’t know how to bring his brother back.

But he did know one thing.

He knew that the longer Nick stood out here, the more the rain soaked into his clothes and his ever so small frame, the more the darkness hung onto the two, was giving Nick’s body the chance to catch a cold. A fucking cold. A _fucking cold_. A small thing, compared to everything that had happened to them, but it mattered to Sky. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, he couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t answer any questions.

But he could grab Nick’s shoulder and lead him away, off of the roof of the White House, back to the kitchen. He could grab a towel and wrap it around him as Nick shivered heavily, heavier than Sky had ever seen. And Sky could prepare a warm drink, try his best to prevent the sickness as much as possible

He couldn’t save Barney.

But he could do this one thing, this one thing that would never matter in hindsight. He could do it.

He could be a brother, even though Nick might’ve forgotten him, he could try his best. It’s what Barney would’ve wanted. He had always praised Sky for the way he cared about his siblings.

So Sky smiled to himself, and sat next to Nick, and waited with him until his eyes grew heavy and Nick’s head rested on his shoulder.


End file.
